


Five Times Rebecca Isn't In Love with Greg (and One Time She Is)

by angelica, yumytaffy



Series: Everyone Tells Greg How He Feels About Rebecca [1]
Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Bartender Hans x Mother Teresa Luther King, California Christmastime, F/M, Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ice skating adorableness (sorry not sorry)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica/pseuds/angelica, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumytaffy/pseuds/yumytaffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Rebecca and Greg are just friends. Friends hang out. Friends spend most evenings together. Friends get fluttery feelings in their stomachs whenever they exchange texts. Friends think a lot about that time they made out at that party.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Wait, what?</i>
</p><p>Post-1x06 'My First Thanksgiving with Josh!'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With love to Diaphenia, our beta and enabler.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to ballroompink, the sophisticated land mermaid who caught a mistake in this section!

**1**

“Hey, Becks, you made it!” Josh swoops in and gives her a one-armed hug. He hands her a red cup as he lets go. “Here you go.”

“This is fun,” Rebecca remarks, nodding her head towards the party in full swing of mostly bros and questionably dressed women. She takes a sip from the cup. It’s warm beer, what she thinks urine might taste like. It’s from Josh, though, so she gulps it. She holds up a gift bag with a bottle of tequila. “You said it’s a birthday party for White Josh, so I brought a present for him.”

“That's great! You can put it with the others.” Josh motions to the table with a couple dozen hastily wrapped bottles of alcohol.

“Apparently everyone knows White Josh likes booze,” Rebecca mumbles, putting the bag down.

“Oh, hey, let’s introduce you to everyone.” Josh blows out a loud whistle. The chatter in the room stops. “Hey, everyone, this is Rebecca! Rebecca, this is everyone.”

She feels a blush creeping over as she feels the eyes of everyone in the room. She lifts her cup and is met with a wall of loud greetings. For a moment, the memory from a frat party she went to back in Harvard pops up in her mind. She takes another sip from her warm drink and turns around to see that Josh already is gone.

The music is loud and the kind that gives her a headache. She leaves her cup on a table and looks around for Josh. He must be somewhere. Instead, she sees White Josh in the next room doing a neverending keg-stand. She watches, impressed.

“He has the stamina of a WWE wrestler and the grace of a ballerina,” a voice behind her comments.

She turns to see Greg holding his own red cup. She asks, “Do you think if you poke one of his muscles, beer will pour out?”

“On that disgusting note, do you want a drink?”

“Sure,” she smiles.

As soon as Greg leaves, the birthday boy in question seems to materialize next to her, his keg-stand suddenly finished.

“Rebecca, thank you so much for coming. This means a lot.” He hugs her tightly, which Rebecca thinks is strange. They’ve met, like, one and a half times. She assumes the affection is from a mix of beer and his newfound understanding of gravity.

“Hey, Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks!” He steps closer, his voice serious. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I read the application essay you wrote for Josh for Aloha Tech.”

“You mean the essay that almost didn’t get him the job for that TV place with all the leis?”

“He got the job in the end, thanks to you,” he says, “and I totally agree with you about Harper Lee.”

“Yo do?” she asks, taken aback.

White Josh nods enthusiastically. “I think the book was never meant to be published, and Ms. Lee was taken advantage of. So not cool.”

Rebecca wonders how her face looks like at the moment. She’s sure her eyebrows have nearly popped off her face in surprise. Yes, White Josh is talking about literature with her. _White Josh_.

“You can easily see that the book’s incomplete,” he continues. “Publishers just wanted to make money off her. Those assholes.”

She finds herself nodding, if only to cover her confusion. White Josh ticks off all the “ultimate frat boy” boxes, but here he is, talking to her about Harper Lee.

“Still, I’m mostly annoyed with how Atticus turned out. He was so dope. Then he became a racist.”

She is trying to come up with an answer when Greg returns and hands her a drink. She’s grateful for any prompt for what to say next. “Thanks, Greg.”

“You look confused,” he says to Rebecca. “What are you guys talking about?”

“That new so-called book by Harper Lee,” White Josh says.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I was so disappointed, man. It’s not cool.”

“So not cool,” Greg echoes. He doesn’t sound degrading like he usually does, which further confuses Rebecca. He sees her expression and adds, “White Josh got his MA in comparative literature.” He turns back to White Josh. “Your thesis was on…?”

“Postcolonial African literature and its effects on the literature of minorities in the US.”

Rebecca almost chokes on her new beer, which is way colder than the one Josh gave her. She manages to say, “That’s like--wow. I mean, just, wow.”

“Oh, hey, I’m being summoned by my bros over there, but we’ll talk more later, Rebecca. See you, Greg.” White Josh gives her another warm hug and leaves.

“Your mind just got blown, right?” Greg asks knowingly. “There is a smart guy underneath those muscles and tank tops.”

“I wasn’t thinking--I mean, I wasn’t going to suggest…I don’t think he looks dumb.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s like a universally-accepted fact. We know it. He knows it.”

Rebecca watches with interest as White Josh’s buddies cheer him on while he takes shot after shot. “Yeah, but I think it’s mean to judge someone based on looks.”

“He did get a scholarship from his short modeling career to pursue a PhD. He quit because his advisor was a dick.”

“I am learning so much right now.” She looks around the room. “Hey, do you know if they have any food here? Maybe some pigs in a blanket?”

“Weren’t you a vegan just last week?”

“I’m not anymore,” she says, wincing. The less said about that week with the taco festival, the better. “But I am avoiding gluten now.”

“Why am I not surprised? Did you take up kabbalah, too, while you’re at it?”

She should be used to the teasing by now, but it still hurts. She thought they were having a nice conversation and being civil to each other. If she’s honest, she’s more mad at herself for what she did than she is mad at him, but now is not the time for that. She has the moral high ground.

“You don’t have to be so mean,” she snaps and leaves. She pretends she doesn’t hear him when he calls out her name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With love to Diaphenia, our beta and enabler.

**2**

“So first you calculate the present values, then add them up and deduct it from the initial amount. It’s that simple.” Rebecca puts the pages back down on her coffee table and leans back. From the confusion on Greg’s face, she knows she’s going to have to repeat herself for the sixth time.

“It makes no sense.”

“How are you supposed to get a degree in business if you can’t understand the most basic thing? You need to be able to figure out if you are making profit or not if you want to run a business.”

“Are you judging me? Not all of us went to Harvard.”

“And Yale.”

He huffs. “Right, I forgot.”

“I’m just trying to help you. Don’t you want my help or not?”

“I just wanted you to go over my business school application, not teach me the basics of budgeting. I need a fresh pair of eyes, and yours are pretty. Fresh, that is. But they’re also pretty. Never mind.”

“I’m just giving you a head start so you can impress your professors. One time at Harvard, I corrected my professor in a class, and let’s just say there was a reason I graduated summa cum laude.”

“And now you’re speaking Latin. Did they teach you that at Harvard, too?”

“Well, yeah. And at Yale. It’s a prerequisite for a law degree.”

“You graduated with honors but not as valedictorian?” he teases.

“That’s exactly what my mother said!” she exclaims. “So going back to your application, I think this is really good. Any school would be lucky to have you.”

“Really?” He looks surprised and maybe a little hopeful. 

She can’t understand him. He has good grades, a great score on GMAT, and his application is strong. He should be more confident. “Yes, really. Don’t sound so surprised.”

He smiles at her, a genuine one that actually reaches his eyes. She wishes she could see that more often. At that moment, her stomach grumbles. 

“Someone sounds hungry,” he says.

“I’m starving. Let’s order pizza. Or Chinese?”

“Let me do that to thank you for your help,” Greg says, looking up the number on his phone, “and to apologize for White Josh’s birthday party. I was being a dick.”

“Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.”

When the food arrives some time later, they settle on the couch.

“So are you doing anything for Christmas?” Rebecca asks.

“Every year, my mom and her annoyingly perfect and rich family invite me over for Christmas Eve Eve dinner. It’s grotesquely lavish, but I need to be there.”

“Why do you go if you hate it?”

“Because my dad insists,” he replies, biting another spring roll. “It’s the one day a year I see her.”

“Does your mom sit you down and list all your imperfections and failures, too?”

He laughs lightly. “She does rub it in my face that I work at a bar. That family can’t comprehend what it’s like to be poor.” He puts on an accent that she finds hilarious. “‘Oh, poor Greg, tell us how it feels to work for money to pay the bills.’” 

They laugh. She decides that she likes this. This being…friends with Greg. They are friends, they hang out, they share their experiences with their families. They get each other.

He attacks her lo mein (with a fork because he’s tragically inept with chopsticks) after declining her offer for some twice. She tries pulling the container on her lap away from him, but instead, he reaches towards her, his arm brushing hers.

“No, you missed your opportunity,” she protests, trying to hide the container from him, but he’s relentless. “You have your own dumplings and chicken! Greg!”

They’re both laughing as he reaches for the box while she holds it away from him. He doesn’t stop until she is almost pinned to the couch and all the food nearly topples to the ground. For a split second, the only things Rebecca registers are his warmth pressed against her and her increasingly sweaty palms.

“Fine!” Rebecca laughs, finally giving in. “You could’ve just asked like a normal person.”

He stabs his fork into the box triumphantly while she holds it out for him. “I never back out of a battle.”

She rolls her eyes and tries to ignore her quickened heartbeat. It’s definitely the hot sauce that’s making it feel like the room is warmer than it is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With love to Diaphenia, our beta and enabler.

**3**

"You should totally come ice skating with us tonight, Becks," Josh says.

Rebecca looks out the windows of Home Base to the clear blue sky. "It's 75 degrees in December."

“It drops to 65 degrees at night,” Greg says. “Valencia even wears pants.”

"They put up an outdoor rink at the mall for the holidays,” Josh says excitedly. “There’s fake snow and elves. It’s very cool. We’ve gone every year since we were kids."

“Everyone goes?” Rebecca asks. “Even hater of all joy, Greg Serrano?”

He doesn’t even look up from drying the glass in his hand. “I don’t hate joy. I just don’t understand happiness.”

Excitement bubbles up in Rebecca’s chest. Far be it for her to pass up a chance to hang out with Josh. And the other guys, too, of course. Maybe even Valencia will start to like her again, or at the very least tolerate her.

“Yeah, sure! It sounds like fun.”

“All right!” Josh high-fives her.

* * *

Later that evening, Greg picks Rebecca up with Hector, his girlfriend Maya, and White Josh squeezed into the backseat. When they arrive at the mall, Valencia and Josh are already there.

Valencia cooly stares Rebecca down before she turns and snaps at Josh, “You didn’t tell me she’d be here.”

“I said there’d be a bunch of us,” Josh shrugs.

Valencia huffs and stomps towards the skate rentals. Josh follows her sheepishly.

“Let’s do this!” White Josh exclaims, oblivious to Valencia’s ire. He whips off his track jacket to reveal a suspiciously sparkly black tank top.

Rebecca asks, “Are those...sequins?”

“A carryover from his ice skating days,” Greg tells her quietly. “He always wears it when we go skating. We don’t talk about it.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Rebecca says. His words sink in as he starts off towards the skate rental booth. “Wait, did you say, ‘ice skating days’?”

It isn’t until she laces her skates up a few minutes later that it dawns on her how much of a mistake it is going ice skating. In her excitement to be invited somewhere by Josh, she forgot that she is a terrible ice skater.

Everyone else confidently steps on the ice and glides away. She vaguely registers Josh and Valencia disappearing hand-in-hand into the crowd of skaters like a couple from some sexy Hallmark holiday movie.

Taking a deep breath, she gives herself a pep talk. “You can do this, Becky. It’s just ice. What’s the worst that could happen? Oh, yeah, I can fall and crack my head open and die.”

Rebecca gingerly steps onto the ice and immediately feels the ground slip from under her. She manages to catch herself on the partition wall but only just.

"Are you okay?" Greg asks, gliding back towards her on surprisingly steady feet.

"Yep!" She grips the wall like her life depends on it. Because it does. "Just getting my sea legs!"

"We're on ice."

"It's a figure of speech," she says through gritted teeth.

"Give me your hand."

"No, you go ahead. I'm totally chill here." She pitches her voice towards nonchalance, but it lands somewhere between fear and panic.

"You look like a baby deer learning how to walk. On ice. During an earthquake."

Rebecca looks warily between the wall and Greg's outstretched hands. Either she takes Greg up on his offer or finds a way to disappear for a couple of hours and pretend she was on the ice the whole time. Behind him, White Josh weaves gracefully between couples, children, and unsteady groups of tweens trying to impress each other.

She sighs in resignation. "You don't have to do this."

"And miss the opportunity to have you owe me one? Not a chance."

"Greg."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"I didn't think the word 'fun' was in your vocabulary." Rebecca slowly lets go of the wall and takes his hands in a death grip.

“Might I remind you that I’m the only thing keeping you from face planting right now?” He steadies her as she takes her first tentative glide away from the wall. “Woah, woah. Steady. Bend your knees a little and try to relax. I got you.”

Somehow, Greg manages to lead Rebecca in a full lap of the rink without wiping out. She ignores the children speeding past them, practically mocking her with their unnatural ability to glide on skates like a bunch of ice monsters.

She is a disaster, but Greg is a surprisingly patient teacher, and he doesn’t once tease her for her inability to get it together. His strong hands in hers are a reassuring presence. He keeps them both upright and catches her before she loses her balance so many times that she forgets to be afraid. She’s so grateful that she doesn’t comment on all the times he got a free feel of her boobs while saving her from falling.

Occasionally, White Josh, Hector, and Maya stop and offer encouraging words. Josh tries to join them but is quickly pulled away by Valencia. Some time after half a dozen almost-falls and two actual-falls, Rebecca finds she’s actually enjoying herself. That is, until she gets overconfident and tries to skate on her own without Greg’s help.

“Remember to lean forward if you feel like you’re falling,” he calls after her.

“I got this!” she says as she shakily skates away. Her bravado evaporates as quickly as it appeared. Her knees buckle. “Woah, I don’t got this!”

Greg is by her side instantly. He grabs her by the waist and tries to steady her, but she tips them both, falling hard on her ass and pulling him down directly on top of her.

Her entire backside hurts but not as much as her pride. So much for hanging out with Josh and looking like an awesome ice skater. She’s almost thankful that Valencia has kept him away all evening.

At that moment, a show-offy 5-year-old laps them for the second time. Rebecca imagines how she and Greg look, two grown adults sprawled on the ice, and suddenly finds the whole situation hysterical.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he shifts his weight off her. He starts to laugh, too, when he sees her practically incapacitated by a fit of laughter.

Rebecca tries to catch her breath. "Yeah. Luckily I landed on a giant ice pack."

They're still a giggling mess of tangled limbs and bruises when Josh and Valencia come to a stop next to them.

"You two look like a rom com," Valencia sneers down at them, "a bad one. Like any Katherine Heigl one that isn't _27 Dresses_."

"I liked _Life As We Know It_ ," Rebecca mumbles as Greg manages to stand and help her to her feet. She pushes down the feeling of how much Valencia’s comment actually pleases her.

“You’re doing great, Rebecca!” Josh says. “Have you tried pushing off from the wall?”

Valencia pulls on his arm. “Joshie, I’m sure Greg has it handled.”

Before Josh can answer, Maya and Hector glide excitedly towards them. Hector is practically bouncing on his heels. “Hey, that 12-year-old girl trash talked White Josh into a race. Wanna watch?”

“This can only end badly,” Greg says. “Of course we do.”

Greg takes Rebecca’s hand and leads her to where White Josh is stretching. Next to him is an intense-looking girl wearing a jacket with the Olympic rings on the back.

As they skate away, Rebecca hears Valencia demand, “Why do you keep trying to hang out with her?” but Josh’s answer is lost in the noise of the rink.

* * *

Eventually, after White Josh loses in an excitingly close race, Rebecca manages to glide on her own and almost keep up with the others. Greg barely leaves her side, though she tells him to take a few laps on his own so she doesn’t feel guilty about dragging him down. He just puts on a weird military voice and says something about leaving no soldier behind.

White Josh tries to teach her how to do a spin in the air, but she insists she's still trying to learn the art of not falling. Hector and his girlfriend do an impromptu interpretive dance to some Disney song blasting over the speakers about building snowmen. She's freezing, her clothes are damp from all the falling, and literally every part of her body hurts, but Rebecca spends the evening laughing more than she has in a long time.

When they go out for hot chocolate afterwards, she’s too busy trying to get more details about White Josh’s ice skating past from Greg that she almost doesn’t notice how Josh sits next to her and the glare Valencia shoots their way.

Well after Greg drops her off at home, she can still feel the warm pressure of his hands in hers. She tells herself it’s only because she held on to him in a death grip for hours.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With love to Diaphenia, our beta and enabler.

**4**

“Aw, I’ve missed you,” Paula says, finding an empty table at the coffee shop. “We haven’t talked outside the office or followed Josh in weeks.”

“I know! I miss you, too.”

“Come on, tell me everything. What have you been up to? How’s everything on the Josh front?”

“Everything’s been so crazy.” Rebecca ticks off items on her fingers. “There was that art walk with Greg, a poetry reading for White Josh--I don’t even know why I needed to be there, but Greg insisted that White Josh would appreciate my support. Whatever. I guess that poem about his bulldog at the beach was kind of touching. You should come to the next one.

“Anyway, we all went to Josh’s old high school for a show that he choreographed. Greg and I went to this cool bookstore in Pasadena--”

“It sounds like you’re spending a lot of time with Greg,” Paula says.

“Huh, I guess I have.” Rebecca shrugs. “Josh and everyone were usually there, too, so I didn’t think about it. I think Valencia is even starting to tolerate my presence!”

_Bloop._

Rebecca checks her text notification.

 _February 6 at 3:30 PM_  
_From: Josh_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Becks, wanna meet for a boba later?_

She waits for that familiar rush of excitement that doesn't come. She realizes she hasn't felt it in relation to Josh in a while.

Paula conspicuously glances at Rebecca’s phone as she types.

 _February 6 at 3:31 PM_  
_From: Rebecca_  
_To: Josh_  
_Sorry, I have plans later. Rain check? :)_

“What are you doing?” Paula demands.

“Greg and I are going to the movies later.”

“That was _Josh_. Remember him? Crazy hot, super nice, man of your dreams, love of your life Josh who we put so much work into? He asks you out, and you blow him off for movies with _Greg_?”

“What’s wrong with going to the movies?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it.” Paula takes one of Rebecca’s hands in her own. “Honey, listen to me. We’re so close! Josh and Vuvuzela are one suspicious lipstick mark on his collar away from breaking up. Don’t give up now.”

“I'm not giving up. I'm having a life. I can't spend every moment wondering what Josh is doing.”

“Woah. How long has it been since we've seen each other?”

“It’s just...Josh is with Valencia. They make each other happy, and I’m okay with that.”

“But Josh is who you want,” Paula says, though it sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself.

“He is.” An idea settles in Rebecca’s chest, warm and _right_. “But you don’t always get what you want. Sometimes you find something better.”

Paula raises her eyebrows. “Wow, therapy’s working out for you, isn’t it?”

Rebecca nods sagely.

“I just want you to be happy, cookie,” Paula says, giving her hand a squeeze.

“I am,” Rebecca says, “or I think I’m getting there.”

Paula sighs and looks at Rebecca with a mix of fondness and resignation. “So...you and Greg?”

“We’ve been over this. Greg is not my...what was that _Twilight_ reference? Jack?”

“ _Jacob_ ,” Paula says, aghast. “Have I taught you nothing?”

Rebecca shakes her head. “Greg and I are just friends.”

It _is_ what she genuinely believes: the sky is blue, Home Base permanently smells like fake cheese, and she and Greg are just friends.

“If you say so…”

“Come on. My relationship with Greg is like mine and yours.”

“You and I never went out on a date,” Paula says. “Or made out at a party.”

“That’s in the past. It happened, and it didn’t work out. Greg and I are trying something new. Being friends is fun.”

“Yeah, right. I’ve seen you two together. You’re adorable. It’s sickening.”

“Is that a compliment, or…?”

Paula barrels on, “There’s always been something between the two of you. Believe me, I watched _When Harry Met Sally_ many times. When there are two beautiful adults of the opposite sex with healthy bodies, especially if they shared bodily fluids before--”

“That’s disgusting.”

“--it’s going to be hard being friends. Especially if the male looks like he should be in _Playgirl_.”

Rebecca ignores Paula’s latest pass at Greg. “Well, I’m going to prove you and that movie wrong. Besides, it’s wildly inaccurate. Meg Ryan’s fake orgasm is not a good one.”

“It sure helped me in my marriage.”

“How is marriage counseling going, by the way?”

“It’s going. Last week we both confirmed that we hate each other.”

“Oh, Paula.”

“It’s fine, it’s good to be on the same page.” She sighs. “Honey, let me just say this: I’m proud of you. You’re not the same Rebecca Bunch who moved to West Covina. You’re new, adult Rebecca with the good job, great apartment, and fabulous best friend. I just want you to be happy.”

Rebecca slips off her seat and pulls Paula in for a hug. “Thanks, Paula. For everything. I want you to be happy, too.”

“We’ll get there, both of us. Now, explain what exactly a poetry reading with White Josh is like.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With love to Diaphenia, our beta; enabler; and intelligent, beautiful marmoset who came up with the idea for this section.

**5**

Rebecca steps up to Greg’s front door and rings the doorbell, feeling a little like a kid asking if her friend can come out to play.

“Hi, Mr. Serrano,” she says when his father opens the door. “I'm Greg's friend, Rebecca. Is he home?”

He greets her with a warm smile. “So you're that girl he talks about all the time. He was right about your chest.”

“Excuse me?”

“Greg’s not here,” Mr. Serrano says, coughing a little. “He has an early shift at the bar. Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, I must've gotten my dates mixed up. I'm supposed to meet him for lunch.”

“Come on in anyway. It'll be nice to meet one of Greg’s friends who isn't named Josh. And you're in luck. I just got some prosciutto from the market.”

As fondly as Greg speaks of his dad, Rebecca does not see the appeal of spending her afternoon meeting Mr. Serrano’s birds. “I just remembered I have a thing--”

“Did Greg tell you about the time when he was 5, and he found out where bacon came from?”

“--that can absolutely be canceled. Prosciutto sounds lovely, Mr. Serrano.”

* * *

“He slept with that stuffed monkey for years until it almost fell apart from all the washing.” Mr. Serrano turns the page of the photo album and points to a photo of little boy with a mess of curly dark hair and a stuffed monkey clutched in his hand. “He called it Mr. Nanners.”

“Oh, my God, he was so cute,” Rebecca says, pouring over the photos. She wonders if she can sneakily snap some pictures with her phone.

“He was a handsome boy,” Mr. Serrano agrees. He adds with a wink, “Some girls say he still is.”

Rebecca flips the page and gasps. “He was a leprechaun for Halloween?”

“Oh, he was obsessed with leprechauns. He kept talking in that weird accent and ate Lucky Charms for breakfast for years. I think he still secretly eats those.”

Rebecca feels the overwhelming need to hug him. “Mr. Serrano, this is one of the greatest days of my life.”

“Can I interest you in some scotch to go with that prosciutto?” he asks, getting up from the table a little shakily.

“Oh, I’ll get it.” Rebecca stands and gently helps him back to his chair.

“Greg tells me you’re a lawyer,” he says as Rebecca returns to the table with the bottle of scotch.

“That’s right. Harvard undergrad and Yale law.”

“He also said you mention that a lot. Did you really move here from New York?”

“Yes,” she says, avoiding his eyes as she pours the scotch. “I needed a change, plus I love the beach.”

“We’re four hours from the beach. People say two, but those people are dumb.”

“I got a really good offer--”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to explain yourself. I understand needing to get out and start over.” He looks down at his glass of scotch. “Greg deserves that as well, but he’s too stubborn and too good of a son to leave.”

“He’s a really great guy,” Rebecca agrees quietly.

“I know you helped him with his business school application,” Mr. Serrano says, coughing lightly.

“Oh, I just looked it over. He already did all the work.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. He needs more people like you in his corner.” His coughing gets a little stronger.

“Mr. Serrano, can I get you anything?”

“There’s an oxygen tank in the next room,” he manages.

Rebecca returns moments later with the tank and helps him with the mask, but it doesn’t seem to help with his breathing. She takes a deep breath herself to remain calm. “Okay, Mr. Serrano, I’m calling an ambulance, okay?”

He nods as she dials 911. The call is quick, and she makes sure Mr. Serrano is comfortable before dialing another number.

“Greg, it’s me. I’m with your dad. He’s fine, but he had some trouble breathing, so I called for an ambulance.”

“Rebecca? What are you doing at my house?”

“Oh, wait. The paramedics are here. I gotta go. We’ll see you at the hospital.”

“What--”

She hangs up and leads the paramedics into the house. When they load him into the ambulance, she doesn't even wait to be asked to come.

Rebecca sits next to the gurney and takes his hand. “Mr. Serrano, you are not dying on me, you hear me? I can’t have another dead parent on my conscience.” She catches the paramedic’s look. “College boyfriend’s mom walked in on us. She had a heart attack. Never mind. Not important right now.”

“He's going to be fine,” the paramedic says wearily. “We have him stabilized.”

“Oh, good,” Rebecca sighs. She's not sure, but she thinks Mr. Serrano is laughing under the oxygen mask.

* * *

A while later, after Greg meets them at the hospital and Mr. Serrano is settled, Rebecca excuses herself to get coffee from the cafeteria and allow father and son some time together. When she returns with two cups of coffee in hand, she hears voices coming from inside. She tries to walk away to let them have their privacy but stops when she hears her name.

“Tell me again why you’re not with Rebecca,” Mr. Serrano says.

Greg sighs. “I told you she’s not for me, Dad.”

“Have I failed you that much as a father that you don’t recognize a good woman when you see her?”

“You’re not going to guilt me into anything.”

“You’re crazy about her.”

“Will you stop?”

“She likes you, too.”

“Dad.”

The room gets suspiciously quiet. Rebecca is leaning in to hear better when the door suddenly opens. She spins around in a panic, trying to pretend she hadn’t been eavesdropping. She turns and comes face to face with Greg.

“Oh, hey!” she exclaims. “I totally just got here. What weird timing that I got here the same time you stepped out of the room.” She stops the doubt he’s about to express by thrusting a cup of coffee in his hand. “Look, I have coffee!”

“Thanks.”

“How’s your dad doing?”

“He’s resting. The old man’s too stubborn to let anything keep him down for too long.”

“So that’s where you get the stubbornness.” She feels a little pride when she manages to get a small smile out of him.

“You should go, Rebecca. It’s depressing here.”

“I’m in no rush. Besides, your dad promised me a story about you at the pool when you were 8-years-old.” She puts on a bad Irish accent, “And maybe a tale of when someone stole ye Lucky Charms.”

Greg’s eyes widen. “How much do you know?”

Rebecca drops the accent. “Not nearly enough.”

He laughs sheepishly. “Listen, thank you for helping with my dad.”

She puts a hand on his arm. “Any time.”

“Greg,” Mr. Serrano calls from inside, “is that Rebecca with you? What are you doing loitering in the hall?”

They share a smile and duck back into the room.

“Hi, Mr. Serrano. How are you feeling?”

“Alive, thanks to you.”

“All I did was call 911.”

“So modest, this one,” Mr. Serrano says to his son.

Greg scoffs. “That's the first time anyone has said that about her.”

“Watch it,” Mr. Serrano warns good-naturedly. “Have a seat, Rebecca. He doesn't know what he's talking about. In fact, you should come over to the house sometime and listen to Sinatra with me. Greg here doesn't appreciate the man, either.”

“No accounting for taste,” Rebecca laughs, turning on her parent-impressing charm.

She catches herself and wonders why she’s been trying to impress Greg’s dad all this time but tries not to think too hard about it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With love to Diaphenia, our beta and enabler.

**+1**

_April 4 at 3:25 PM_  
_From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Are we still on for the movies tonight?_

 _April 4 at 3:32 PM_  
_From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_Can we go another time? Darryl sneezed his flu onto me yesterday_  
_I think I'm dying_  
_I take it back. I'm dying for real_  
_When I'm gone, you can have the giant fish from my apartment. I know you're fond of each other._

 _April 4 at 3:34 PM_  
_From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Tell Delilah I say hi. She owes me a dance_  
_Can I bring you anything?_

 _April 4 at 3:37 PM_  
_From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_No, thank you. Stay away. Save yourself._  
_Delilah and I are going to mainline TheraFlu and watch While You Were Sleeping_

 _April 4 at 3:38 PM_  
_From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_I've never seen it_

 _April 4 at 3:42 PM_  
_From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_You've been deprived! It's my go-to comfort movie_  
_I'm making you watch it when I feel better_  
_Assuming I don't die from the plague_

 _April 4 at 3:43 PM_  
_From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_You don't have the plague_

 _April 4 at 3:45 PM_  
_From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_You don't know what the plague looks like_  
_It’s what my people ran away from_

 _April 4 at 3:47 PM_  
_From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Get some rest. We'll talk later_

* * *

Whenever she is sick, all Rebecca wants is her mom’s matzo ball soup. It’s one of only a handful of dishes in her mother's repertoire, and she only made it when Rebecca was under the weather. It reminds her of the rare times her mother was like a regular, comforting mom and not the embodiment of all her anxiety.

Rebecca eyes the unopened can of soup in the kitchen from her couch and sighs. One of the many sucky things about being an adult is that you can't just call your mom to bring you soup, especially when she lives on the other side of the country.

She has just about decided to accept her fate and bury herself under blankets to die, soupless, on her couch when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in, Paula!” she calls, her voice slightly muffled from under a pillow. “I hope you know that when I give these case files back, they’re going to be covered in germs.”

“When did you become a workaholic?” a voice that is definitely not Paula asks.

Rebecca freezes in her cave of bedding. She mentally notes her unwashed hair and blotchy skin and pulls the blanket down a crack to see Greg watching her with raised eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you were sick. I brought provisions.”

She emerges from under the pillow, subtly trying to pat down her hair. “Greg, I told you to save yourself.”

“Luckily for you, I never listen to you.” Greg starts pulling items from the plastic bag in his hand. “I brought you both NyQuil and DayQuil--I didn't know how drugged up you wanted to be--orange juice, and good tissue.”

She grabs the box from him gratefully. “Fancy tissue with lotion!”

“Also, homemade chicken soup.” He holds up a Tupperware container.

"You made me soup?" She didn't think it was possible for one’s heart to be literally warmed until this moment.

"My mom's recipe. It’s the only good thing she left me with."

“Greg…”

He doesn't quite meet her eyes. “I'll put the soup in a bowl.”

Greg returns a minute later with a warm bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a mug of tea. “The water is for the medicine after you get some food in your stomach.”

“Greg, thank you for everything, but you really should go before I get you sick.”

He sighs dramatically. “It's too late for me. I've already broken the quarantine seal. Might as well lean into it.” He takes the remote from her and sits at the end of the couch with her feet. She rolls her eyes and kicks the blanket up so he can sit under it, too. “What are we watching? _While You Were Sleeping_? Is it a horror movie about the Sandman?”

“Rom com about lonely train token worker Sandra Bullock, who pretends to be comatose Peter Gallagher’s fiancée, then falls in love with his brother Bill Pullman.”

“So it's a stalker movie?”

“Just watch, Serrano.”

“Nurse Serrano to you.”

Rebecca lets the bowl of soup warm her hands. It looks delicious, though her stuffed up nose means she tastes little and can smell even less. Still, the soup works its magic in making her feel less horrible.

As Sandra Bullock navigates her way through a fake engagement and a newfound surrogate family, Rebecca’s mind starts churning over the fact that Greg did all this for her. It's because they're friends, right? Friends make sick friends soup. _She’s_ never made soup for a sick friend, and no friend has made soup for her before, but it happens. She assumes.

Otherwise, they'd be more than friends, and they already tried going down that road more than once. It ended disastrously because of her. Because of Josh. Because she wasn't ready. And now? Well.

It's true they've been hanging out a lot the last few months. She had far fewer ways to tell Paula that she and Greg were just friends than she did non-Josh excuses for moving to West Covina.

But friends hang out. Friends spend most evenings together. Friends have obnoxious inside jokes that make Paula look at them suspiciously. Friends get fluttery feelings in their stomachs whenever they exchange texts. Friends think a lot about that time they made out at that party. Friends wish they actually focused on said making out and committed the feeling of his lips on her neck to memory. Friends daydream about what would’ve happened if they went back to her place during the taco festival instead of going to the guacamole contest.

Wait.

 _“I’d say she gets under your skin as soon as you meet her,”_ Bill Pullman’s character laments about Sandra Bullock’s. _“She drives you so nuts you don't know whether to hug her or just really arm wrestle her. She would go all the way to Europe just to get a stamp in her passport. I don't know if that amounts to insanity, or just being really, really...likable.”_

“I'd pick Peter Gallagher over Bill Pullman,” Greg says. “There's magic in those eyebrows.”

“Ha ha,” Rebecca laughs awkwardly. “Gotta love those eyebrows.”

Greg looks at her strangely but doesn't say anything.

She is suddenly hyper-aware of Greg’s presence, from the quick exhale of breath from his laugh to his warmth under the shared blanket. Flu be damned, all she wants to do is crawl onto his lap, feel his strong arms around her, and--

Woah, where are all these thoughts coming from? Is she...falling for Greg?

She doesn’t know what to do with this information. Her eyes dart rapidly around the room. Her breathing becomes shallow. This is usually the time where she retreats into her imagination and sings her feelings, but she’s almost forgotten how. It’s been a while since the last big musical number in her head. She’s actually been able to process her thoughts without the aid of singing. She can’t tell if it’s because of effective therapy or being around someone who makes her feel grounded.

But that doesn’t mean the feeling is mutual. She has no idea how he feels about her. She knew how he felt before she broke his heart. It’s taken so long for them to get to this place. Is she willing to jeopardize one of the best relationships in her life because she finally landed on the page he was on months ago?

“You look like you’re going to throw up,” Greg says. “I’ll get a trash can.”

“No, I’m fine.” She motions for him to sit back down and steels herself. “Greg, why are you being so nice to me?”

His brow furrows. “You’re sick, and we're friends. Friends take care of each other.”

“ _Are_ we friends?”

“If not, we're really bad at being enemies.”

A million thoughts tumble through her head. She blurts out the first thing that remotely makes sense, “You make me not sing in my head.”

He reaches out to press a hand to her forehead. “I think you have a fever.”

She waves him off. “No, I feel fine. Let me get this out.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m really sorry about the taco festival.”

He looks a little pained. “I know. You’ve apologized a dozen times. Then, half of those were canceled out by the singing teddygram apology you sent to my work. That only made things worse. But we’re okay now.”

“I’m still sorry.” She sniffles, though she’s not entirely sure if it’s because of the cold.

She finally looks up and meets his eyes. He’s looking at her in _that_ way, that fond, slightly disbelieving look he has when he thinks she isn’t looking. A warmth spreads from her chest all the way down to her toes. How did she manage to ignore it all this time?

Oh, yeah. Because she’s a mess who sleeps with a rando vegan in the middle of a perfectly good date, that’s how.

“I ruined it, didn’t I?” she asks hesitantly. “I ruined any chance of...whatever this could’ve been.”

“Not completely,” he says quietly.

“Greg, I--”

“Rebecca, I still have feelings for you.”

She really hopes this isn’t some flu-fueled dream. “You do?”

“I know we tried before, and we _just_ figured out how to be friends, but--”

She damns all general health standards and kisses him. For a moment, he is still. She worries that she misread him until his hands thread in her hair and pull her closer as he deepens the kiss. It’s even better than she remembers, especially now that she’s actually paying attention. Even the cold medicine adds a dreamy cloud to the whole affair. She feels warm and flushed, and it’s not just because of her fever.

When they pull apart, she says, “I’m really sorry I just gave you the flu.”

He tucks her hair behind her ear. “It was worth it.”

She gives him a weak smile. “Greg, I can’t guarantee I won’t screw up again, but I’m going to try not to.”

“If you get scared of being an adult again, can you please tell me first instead of, you know, that other thing?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She's horrified when she nearly yawns in his face. “Oh, my God, that is not a reflection of your kissing ability. It's the cold medicine, I swear.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

Rebecca grabs his hand as he begins to stand. “Stay.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” He half lays on the couch and pulls her to rest on his chest, tucking the blankets around them both.

As movie Sandra Bullock confesses to her fake fiancé and his family that she’s in love with his brother, Rebecca’s eyelids become too heavy to keep open. She feels the press of Greg’s lips to her forehead as sleep takes over.

* * *

Rebecca wakes up groggily to an infomercial playing silently on the TV. According to the clock of the cable box, it’s 3:36 AM.

She’s confused as to why she’s in her living room and not her bedroom until she feels an arm tighten around her back and realizes that her pillow has a heartbeat. Greg is asleep under her--and will probably wake up with a crick in his neck. They’ll worry about that in the morning.

The last thought she has before she falls asleep again is that she can get used to the sight of Greg sleeping next to her.

 

**end.**


End file.
